I was recently reminded of the Myers-Briggs personality inventory. A year or so ago I tested as “ISTJ,” and I found some good descriptions online. I guess I’d summarize it as being conscientious to a fault-- even to the detriment of my physical and mental health. I don’t know if it’s part of being an introvert, or one of my other clinical diagnoses, but I’ve always found it much easier to write than to interact verbally in nearly all situations. I hate the telephone because there’s no way to plan for the conversation. Face to face meetings are somewhat easier if I can kind of read the situation. But the larger the group the harder it is to form any coherent statement that will contribute to the discussion.
The difficulty in conversations is that I have too many thoughts going through my mind to decide how to put them into a coherent sentence that is relevant to the subject at hand. I’m constantly thinking-- What do they mean by that question? What answer are they expecting? What answer will satisfy them? What do I believe about the subject? Does this person believe the same way I do? Can I safely say what I believe without offending them or making them categorize me? If I say this, what is the next question going to be and am I ready to answer that one? Is this a 5-minute conversation or 15?
It was brought to my consciousness in a counseling session a few weeks ago (and is part of the reason I quit going). She gave me the standard, “You can say anything to me.. You can even tell me you think I’m missing the point.” But then I made a comment simply in order to be honest, knowing that if I didn’t say it up front, she’d later want to know why I was hiding it. Anyway, my comment came out, and from that moment on that was the whole focus of her attention. It ticked me off because that particular issue was not the reason I was in her office. So I went back to my routine of carefully measuring the safety of every sentence.
Besides the difficulty of maintaining conversations, I have to mentally rehearse nearly every conversation I’ve had during the day. And if I know I have a meeting coming up, I try to rehearse every possibly contingency of what I need to say, what I can’t say, and where the discussion will lead. Sometimes my brain gets stuck on a relatively simple explanation. It’s as if I’m stuck in the middle of a geometry proof-- I can’t just say to myself “a triangle has three sides,” but I have to explain to myself that the sum of the angles is 180 degrees, the Pythagorean theorem, sine, cosine, and tangent formulas… Maybe it’s the mental equivalent of OCD-- if I don’t complete the thought I can’t move on to the next thought.
Anyway, the reason I’m going through all this right now is that I know many businesses discourage the use of email because of its impersonal nature and is often misinterpreted. But they don’t understand that some of us communicate much better by email than in person. It is less frightening and a lot faster in most cases. Going back to the introvert label, it is draining to be around people to listen to all that they have to say, especially if they are the type of person who thinks out loud and never gets to a point. I like to avoid all such interactions, even if I know that I have something valuable to contribute. Even people who work in the same field, and should have about the same knowledge that I have, can be an irritant if they can’t get to the conclusion as fast as I can or in the same way I do. If it’s clear that A+B=C, then why do they complicate things by explaining that C-B=A?
As an introvert, I’ve constantly been challenged by any kind of competitive activity, from card games to basketball. I remember in grade school I would “cheat” at Bingo to make sure someone else would win before me. I had no desire to draw attention to myself by winning. Then there was the ubiquitous Sunday school activity of “who can find the Bible verse first?” I knew perfectly well that I could find them first, but I wasn’t about to try. Team sports have always intimidated me with the worry that I might somehow embarrass myself. At least in track I had a place where I quickly learned I could excel without worry (though I did feel bad about beating a girl who was two or three grades ahead of me).
It’s also tough to have an IQ that’s higher than 98% of the world. (Yes, I’m a Mensa member, at least until the next time my dues are up.) Even if I have a good idea that could benefit others, I’m afraid I’ll have to explain it to someone who just doesn’t get it.
So what do I take away from these ramblings? I know that God has made me unique, and it’s okay to be different, but sometimes I wish I weren’t quite so different. And while I know that He will help me do whatever He requires of me, that doesn’t make it much less scary. Some things have gotten easier over time, but He keeps stretching my comfort zone.
